


I Love The Sound (When You Come Undone)

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, all the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"If you're with someone else, then you're safe," she finally said, looking at him from partially lowered lashes.</i>
</p><p>  <i>"Safe?"  What the hell was she talking about?  "Safe from who?"</i></p><p>  <i>"Me."</i></p><p>Or: Natasha keeps trying to set Steve up with other people, but Steve already has his eye on someone a lot closer to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love The Sound (When You Come Undone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbrunja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/gifts), [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



> A couple of months ago, I promised Redbrunja and Geckoholic some variation of Natasha getting spectacularly laid. Eventually, I do fulfill my promises. :D Also written for the Tower Party lightning round - the theme this time was smut and my prompt was _Dancing all night to the sound of our beating hearts._

"Jeannie in Accounting?"

Steve didn't even look up from his tablet. "Went out with her already, remember. Back when we were both with SHIELD."

"Huh, yeah, you're right," Natasha replied. She put down her own tablet, studied him in the soft glow of the TV playing on mute from across the room. On the coffee table, opened files and faded maps were strewn across the surface. They'd both gone over them at least three times already, but it never hurt to try again. "How'd it go?"

Steve shrugged. "Fine, but I don't think either of us were feeling it." He and the lovely Ms. Masset had had a nice dinner and he'd walked her home, but even before they'd exchanged a perfunctory goodnight kiss, it had been pretty clear there'd been nothing there to work with.

"Fair enough." Natasha stretched, her hand at the small of her back, arching to ease some of the stiffness from sitting so long in one position. The pale pink t-shirt she was wearing was so thin it may as well have been transparent. Steve very studiously didn't let his gaze drop below her neck. 

"What about Chen in the bio-tech lab?" she asked. "He's really cute."

"He's very attractive, but I'm still not into men, Nat." And even if he was, it wouldn't matter. There wasn't a man or woman alive who could match the person sitting across from him. But that was a road best left untouched. She was a friend, a partner, a colleague – and, not to mention, not interested.

He picked his tablet up again. There had to be something he was missing in the latest report. Some clue, some sign...

"You sure you're not even a little bit bi?" When he glanced up, he was met with one of Natasha's signature full, mischievous grins. "I mean, Tony does have a huge crush on you..."

He didn't give her the satisfaction of shuddering, but it was a near thing. "If Tony and I were the last two people on earth, I'd still go with my right hand."

"Ow, harsh."

"Hey, you asked."

"True." She tapped a finger against her lips, flicked her tongue across the bottom one to moisten it. Steve busied himself by mentally reciting the stats from Babe Ruth's rookie season until his erection died down. "Alright, how about Monique in IT?"

She was killing him and she didn't even know it. "If I say I'll think about it, can we actually get back to some real work?" he asked, and gestured at the files.

She shrugged, and picked up the nearest one. "Sure," she said, but he knew that wouldn't be the end of it. It never was.

***

"Padama with Stark Industries, what about her?"

Steve barely managed to duck out of the way of Natasha's fist. "You really want to talk about this now?"

"Why not?" Her grin was feral, and so disconcerting that she managed to get under his guard, sweep his legs from under him. He landed with on the mat with a hard, bruising thud, but managed to roll away before she could toss a Widow's Bite on him.

"Getting sloppy, Rogers," she taunted, making a small tsking sound. She barely sounded winded.

"You're the one talking about my dating life in the middle of a session." He feinted right, but swerved left, and hit her side with the flat of the shield before she ducked and weaved, then used the wall behind her to leap out of the way of the next toss.

"Multi-tasking, Cap."

He caught her fist with his free hand, used her own forward momentum to drive her to the mat, and planted his foot on the fragile skin just beneath her chin. She grinned up at him like she was a proud teacher, all teeth and fire dancing in her eyes. She was utterly magnificent. 

He was so, _so_ fucked.

"Why are you so determined to set me up with someone?" he asked, curious. _Someone not you_ , he didn't say.

She tapped at his ankle and he moved it, offered her a hand to help her back to her feet. "I just want you to be happy, that's all."

"I can find my own dates," he reminded her. He set the shield down and grabbed his water, emptying the bottle in three long pulls. "Why don't you tell me what this is really about?"

She grabbed a towel and dabbed at the sweat on her face. Like him, she was dressed in a tank top and shorts, both of them barefoot. She'd been growing her hair out the last few months and had taken to pulling it back into a ponytail when they sparred to keep it out of her eyes, although she still sometimes fought with him when it was down, just to make sure she could work around it. "I can't just want to make sure you aren't spending every Saturday night looking for clues about Barnes' whereabouts?"

"Sure, you could, but you wouldn't be you if you didn't have at least three different angles." It was, to be honest, one of the things he liked most about her. "So what are the others?"

Thankfully, she didn't try to deflect the question. She just unwrapped the wrist straps holding her widow's bites and let them drop to the floor beside the water bottles and the towels. "It's not for your benefit, it's for mine."

"I don't understand," he said, after waiting in vain for her to elaborate.

"Yeah, I figured as much." She sighed, like she was grappling with something. He waited her out. "If you're with someone else, then you're safe," she finally said, looking at him from partially lowered lashes.

"Safe?" What the hell was she talking about? "Safe from who?"

"Me."

"You? Why would I need to be safe from...?" He trailed off, stunned, as all of the pieces fit together in a very clear bullseye-view of a picture. She _wanted_ him. She wanted _him_. Wanted him exactly like how he wanted her, and had been doing her level best to pawn him off on someone else, like a stray pet she couldn't take care of. It was sort of flattering and more than a little insulting.

Her lips quirked in a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I knew you'd catch on eventually."

"Bucky always did say I was slow as hell when it came to women." The reply was automatic. He was still reeling with the revelation that his interest was returned. This wasn't just some unrequited crush. He hadn't been misreading signals. But even though she was his friend, his partner, someone he trusted with his life and secrets, she didn't think she could trust herself around him. Somehow, for whatever reason, she thought he'd be better off with anyone else.

"Why?" he found himself asking.

"Come on, Rogers, look at you." She waved her hand at him, the motion all-encompassing and dismissive. "You practically radiate apple pie wholesomeness. I'm not going to be the one to yank you into the black and down to my level."

For a moment, Steve wished they were still sparring or that he was at the punching bag, so he'd have an excuse to hit something. It was a fight to keep his voice level. He was sure she heard the anger in it anyway. "Why don't you let me decide what I can handle. I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you don't, but you do deserve someone better. Someone clean." _Someone who isn't a killer_ was left unspoken, but Steve heard it loud and clear all the same.

He stalked towards her, stopped when he was a breath away. Her face was still flushed with exertion and loose tendrils of hair had escaped from her ponytail and were plastered against her forehead and nape. Her eyes were luminous and large, lips full and beckoning, and he never could resist the way she lifted her chin, like she was constantly challenging the world to take a shot. She was one of the best fighters he'd ever seen, one of the best tacticians he'd ever worked with, and he was in constant awe at her bravery and all she'd survived. He counted himself one of the luckiest men alive that she called him friend, was honored and humbled by her resilience and strength and ingenuity, and he'd wanted her with a ferocity bordering on painful from the first day he'd met her. 

He couldn't _tell_ her any of that. She'd never believe him, even if he could manage to stumble out the words or string together a sentence that wouldn't end up with him sticking his foot in his mouth. He knew better than anyone that words were pretty fucking useless when faced with a deep-seated belief cultivated by a lifetime of mistakes and regrets and doubts about one's self-worth.

But it didn't mean that there weren't other options available to him to show her how much he appreciated everything she was, and how much he didn't give a good goddamn about her past. How much he wanted and desired every inch of her, good, bad and ugly, it didn't matter.

He tilted her chin up with a gentle finger, heard her shaky intake of breath, and stepped even closer. Close enough to feel the ever-present heat curling between them, to smell the floral shampoo she used and the clean sweat still clinging to her skin. The air around them seemed charged, the hairs on his arms standing at attention. Anticipation hummed through him, skipped a jagged line along his nerves.

"If I start to do _anything_ you don't want, tap out, tell me code red, let me know. If you so much as _blink_ no, I stop, no questions, okay?"

She nodded, but didn't move. Not good enough. Not for this. "I need you to tell me, Nat. You'll stop me."

He caught the small flash of gratitude in her eyes, there and gone between one blink and the next. "I'll stop you," she promised, and he closed the distance between them, laid his lips on hers.

He deliberately kept the kiss chaste, light, a closed-mouth press of lips on lips. Gave them both time to pull away, to pull back before an irrevocable line was crossed. Her friendship was worth way more than any physical attraction, no matter how many times he'd gotten himself off to this exact scenario. No matter how much they both wanted it, she was way too important for him not to make 100% sure she was on board.

Gradually, degree by degree, she relaxed into the kiss, into him, her lips so soft and sweet against his, the firm swell of her breasts pressing against his chest, and after a few minutes, wrapped those deceptively slender arms (arms he'd seen easily choke guys out twice his size) around his neck to hold him close. He took his time deepening the kiss – a quick flick of his tongue against the seam of her mouth, a light scrape of teeth against her own flickering tongue, angled his head to capture her soft, surprised moan when he easily lifted her in his arms, urged her to wrap those strong legs around his hips.

"Still with me?" he asked, searching her face for any signs that she wasn't fully A-Okay with the progression of events.

She smiled, wriggled a little in a really fantastic – and totally uncomfortable – way. She was going to kill him before they even got a single piece of clothing off. "This all you got, Rogers?"

There was a dare in the question, and Steve may have changed a lot over the years and grown and matured, but he didn't think he'd ever outgrow the need to prove everyone around him wrong, or the need to rise to any challenge, no matter how attractively given.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes, you're good," he replied, and put every bit of want and longing into the next kiss, no holding back, just pure raw lust and months of pent up frustrated need. Their tongues tangled, clashed, and her hands moved to his hair, pulling tight, and he welcomed the bright burst of pain grounding him into the moment. Into the heat of her mouth, the warm weight of her body, the harsh pants of their breaths as each kiss grew more carnal, a blatant precursor to what he really hoped was in store in the near future.

He started walking, no real destination in mind, and swallowed her grunt of surprise when her back hit the wall. "Sorry –" he started to say, but Natasha bit down on his lower lip to silence him and yanked at the hem of his tank top. Great idea. He flung it quickly to the floor and tossed hers off of her a moment later, made equally quick work of getting her out of her sports bra.

She was so pale all over, skin ivory and delicate looking except for the coral-pink of her nipples, already pebbled to hard nubs and way too much temptation for Steve to resist. He used the wall as a ballast, lifted her higher so he could get his mouth on one nipple, then the other. She tasted cotton-candy sweet, trembled in his arms like she couldn't help herself and if he didn't get his hands on the rest of her soon, he might actually explode.

"Steve," she muttered, as he kissed and licked over every inch of her breasts, then laved a path up between them to her throat. "Steve," she moaned, his name an entire thesaurus of want, when he pushed her shorts and panties down and palmed slick folds, his fingers already soaked from how wet she was. How wet she was for _him_.

" _Jesus_ , Nat," he murmured, reverent. He stroked her clit, hungry gaze watching every flicker of emotion on her face as she shuddered, the back of her head hitting the wall as he got her off just like that, rubbing her clit nice and slow and absolutely relentless. "God, you are so beautiful...been thinking about getting my hands and my mouth on you forever –"

"Me too, God, Steve..."

He slid a finger inside her, watched as her chest flushed and her eyes clouded over, her teeth worrying her lower lip as another breathy moan spilled out. She was so tight, and he wanted – God, he wanted, his cock was hard enough to hammer nails and he was pretty sure every bit of blood in his body was racing due south – but this was about her, her pleasure and her need, and he wanted to make her come again, wanted to feel her fall apart around his fingers.

"Can you come like this for me?" he asked, adding another finger, scissoring them so he could press in ever deeper. "Can you ride my fingers just like this so I can see you come undone –?"

" _Fuck_ , goddammit, just..." Her nails dug deep grooves into the meat of his shoulders as she ground down, came with another bit-off curse and a full-bodied tremor.

God, she was magnificent. Her hair'd come mostly out of its holder and was a wild red tangle around her face, her lips were bruised and pink and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from the way she'd been clawing at him, but he didn't care. If she wanted to mark him, he'd kneel before her in an instant, swear fealty, promise any oath. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, whatever she needed from him, Steve was happy – more than happy – to give it to her. 

Her kiss was desperate, hard, and more than a little mean, all teeth and spit, but he met her halfway, helped her drag his shorts and briefs down to pool at his ankles before he kicked them off. He practically sobbed in relief as he cock was finally freed, and the sob turned into a gut-wrenching groan when Natasha reached between them to close a hot, tight fist around his length.

"All this is for me?" she teased, and _God_ , she was so gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever seen anyone more stunning. He wanted to capture her in oils just like this, naked and beautiful and full of life and passion.

"However you want it," he told her, and transferred her weight to one arm, braced the other hand against the wall and only kept himself from spilling like some randy youth by sheer force of will. "But I didn't bring – I don't have –"

"Hey, it's okay." She nuzzled his cheek, the touch gentle, soothing, at odds with how hard they were both breathing. "You don't have to worry, okay. It's fine," she told him, and leaned back far enough that he could read the truth of it on her face. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah, okay."

She smiled then, filthy and wide, as she dug her heels against his ass to push him flush against her. "Now, you weren't planning on getting me all worked up to leave me hanging, were you, Rogers?"

He chuckled, took the respite to ease down, back off the ledge, and shifted until the head of his cock was pulsing just inside her. Already, she felt like a goddamn miracle. "Never let it be said I don't know how to show a lady a good time," he said, and thrust up, sinking all the way inside wet heat in one push.

She bit his earlobe, breath hot and moist as she urged him to move faster, harder, English bleeding into Russian as she met him stroke for stroke. "That's it," he urged, panting like he was a ninety-pound asthmatic all over again, each thrust less controlled than the last. "Take what you want, use me, use my cock..."

"Jesus _fuck_ , Steve, you're so..." She clamped down around him, a soaking wet vise, and used the considerable strength in her thighs and core to ride him fast and hard, no finesse, just her using him to get herself off. "Need you...fingers," she managed, and he wormed a hand between them to rub his thumb across her clit.

The heavy scent of sex filled his nostrils, the rhythmic thud of flesh on flesh filled his ears and white spots danced behind his eyes as he drove into her, drove her to another shuddering orgasm before he allowed himself to let go.

Her name – _Natasha, Nat_ – was the only sound he could make, guttural and raw, as his entire world bottomed out. He felt like he'd come forever, the rush of it leaving him boneless and spent, aftershocks jolting his spine, and spreading out to his toes and fingers.

Their lips met again, velvet-soft and almost sweet, as he slowly came back to full awareness, back into himself. Natasha was pliant in his arms, legs still wrapped around his hips to keep him inside her, and she looked so satisfied, so pleased with herself, with him, that another sharp burst of want slammed through him, blocked out all other thought.

He pulled out of her and sank to his knees, breathed in musk and come, and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder so he could delve in, his tongue thrusting up into her good and deep. She jerked, then curled around him like an apostrophe, chanted his name, broken and high-pitched, as he licked his come out of her, licked and sucked and licked some more until all he could taste was _her_ , Natasha, on his tongue, in his mouth. Until he'd made her come again, once, then twice. Until he felt the unmistakable tap of her forefinger against the back of his neck.

He slid back up her body, met her lips with his own, and slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, to match hers until the clawing hunger subsided and he felt more like himself. 

"Okay?" she asked, putting a little distance between them so she could look up at him. Her fingers toyed at the hairs on his nape. She looked well-pleasured, sated and utterly wrecked, and a warm glow of satisfaction lit him from within. He'd given her that. He'd put that look on her face.

"I'm great," he said, and nosed at her hair, took another deep breath. He wanted to bathe in her scent. "How about you?"

"I'm good." She scraped sharp teeth along his jawline. "You didn't do so bad for an old man."

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I'll make sure to take Viagra next time so I can keep up."

"I think you're alright without it," she told him, and tilted his head down to press a damp kiss to his temple. 

"Does this mean I passed the audition?"

She laughed then, full-bodied and amused, and the next kiss was an apology he didn't need, but gratefully accepted like the gift it was. "Yeah, you passed," she said, fond. "With flying colors, even."

"Awesome." He finally set her back on her feet. "I could go for a shower and maybe a bacon cheeseburger or two. You in?"

"Throw in a chocolate milkshake and I'm all yours," she answered, and tugged him down for another quick kiss. "I might even scrub your back if you're nice."

"Deal," he said, so happy he was surprised he wasn't bursting with it. "And no more trying to set me up?"

"No," she said, and smiled – the small, genuine smile that Steve knew very few people were ever privileged enough to see. "Unless you wanted someone else to join us next time..."

"Why don't we wait a few months before we go down that road," he suggested, and smiled right back, bright and deep-grooved. He couldn't wait to get her on a bed and take his time, worship every inch of her from head to toe. "I'd rather just concentrate on you for the time being."

"Well, when you put it like that..." He barely had time to brace himself before she launched herself back in his arms, and had her legs around his waist. She grinned down at him, and he saw the challenge in her eyes before she opened her mouth. "Take me to the showers, soldier."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," he replied with another kiss, and strode off, an order he was happy to obey.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to G. for the very quick once over.
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
